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Two little lobelings, with freshly sharpened teeth and clean pajamas, sat in Moogie's lap on the bed. Rom curled close to her chest, pressing an ear to her skin to listen to the steady beating of her heart. Quark squirmed.
"I don't feel tired, I don't need stories. Can I go play?" Rom was the one who liked cuddles, who still wanted constant contact with Moogie.
"You can't." Ishka answered simply, rubbing a soothing hand between Quark's shoulders. "The toys are put away, the day is over, it's time for little boys to go to sleep."
"I-I'm tired, Moogie." Rom peeked up at her, "I want a story."
Quark rolled his eyes, rocking back against the firm press of his mother's hand.
Moogie cooed, "Good boy, just relax." She shifted in her seat on the bed, bare back pressing into the cold wall. "Many many years ago, in Gundow Province…"
Brek was a man with small lobes and not much between them. He was a perpetual employee, always the exploited and never exploiter. Despite all of this, he stayed happy.
This was because Brek had a secret. Every night when he got home from long hours working too hard for not enough pay, he dreamed. In his dreams, Brek walked the halls of a latinum palace. The floors shone to a mirror finish. The walls were draped in heavy tapestries, and lined with art. When Brek saw himself in dream mirrors, he was dressed in the finest suits. Chains, tassels, brooches, and pendants swung with every step. So long as Brek was asleep, he was a king.
So it went every night for years. When work got tiring, Brek just remembered his dream home. He turned his ears from opportunity. While his peers saved for wives, Brek saw no need. He had no desire for a child, or glittering suits, or latinum lined beetle snuff boxes. Brek could have all the beautiful acquisitions he ever wanted in his dreams.
One night, he wandered through a door, and found himself in a courtyard. The dense canopy of pecca fruit trees protected Brek from the warm rain as he walked between them. Maybe , he wondered, as he walked along and ate, this is the Divine Treasury.
"Why would the Divine Treasury have an outside?" Quark had slumped against Moogie's shoulder, lazy fingers tugging the bottom swell of his lobe.
"Why shouldn't it?" Moogie took his hand in her's and held it down at his side.
Quark was too tired and too invested in the story to fight her on it. "Who would even go out there! You don't need fruit when you're dead."
They'd been arguing about his self-soothing for weeks now. Moogie said that because Quark had all his first teeth, and could chew worms on his own, he was too old to play with his ears and suck his thumb like a little nursing grub. Then father would say something about how Granmoogie chewed all his food past his first apprenticeship. Then they'd argue. Lots of words Quark knew. Even though he couldn't grasp their true importance yet, he knew they mattered. Profits, opportunity, female, gambling, clothing, lobeless-good-for-nothing-idiot. Once they started it was like they'd never stop. Unnoticed, both boys would sit to the side, anxiously pinching their lobes.
"The Exchequer is busy reading statements all day," Quark continued, "and the petitioners are sent back to live again. Who would do the landscaping?"
"I would go there." Yawned Rom, exposing the pointy tip of a single beginning tooth. "I want to taste Divine Treasury pecca fruit." That made Moogie coo. Quark rolled his eyes again.
Ishka slid a slow hand over Rom's lumpy skull and he began to suck his thumb. "I don't know if the real Divine Treasury has an outside. Maybe you boys should take a look around when you get there." that settled that, "But when Brek awoke…"
It was all gone once again, his rich mossy green robes were replaced with thinning pajamas. The taste of pecca fruit fading on his tongue. The idea hadn't left him, though. What if it was the Divine Treasury? What if he'd been blessed by the Exchequer? He wasn't gifted with the lobes for business, he didn't have much lobes at all, but he had eyes that viewed the Treasury. A beautiful second life of complete luxury available each time he fell asleep.
Rejoicing in his epiphany, Brek no longer felt the drive for wealth. The dreams were enough, why fight for latinum?
Quark knew enough to grasp in horror. Rom didn't.
The longer his life went on, the more Brek seemed to exist only in his dreams. His waking hours were unimportant to him, just something to endure between nights. There was no desire for females, or clothing, or jewels to fill his real home. Brek grew old, his little lobes sagged down. When the morning finally came that Brek never woke again, he died on apprentice wages.
The glimmering room was unfamiliar to Brek. The opulence exceeded any place he'd ever seen in his dreams. The ceilings were high, and the air carried the tangy smell of liquid latinum. He laid next to a low table across from a gilded throne. Brek immediately knew this was the Divine Treasury. He stood ready to meet with the Exchequer.
On the table, Brek found a single financial record. There were no tricks, no clever accounting to be found. His accounts needed only one meagre statement. To any other Ferengi, they would tell a sad story. Every slip going to his home and food. No joys, no toys, no advancement. To Brek, they were evidence of a beautiful life.
He didn't hear footsteps, but when he looked up from the report, someone sat in the grand throne.
The Exchequer had lobes unlike any Brek had seen before. Wide and thick and whirling. He was draped in embroidered robes, but Brek didn't even have the sense to feel shy in his tattered sleep clothes.
Brek advanced in excitement, calling to the Exchequer like they were friends. He handed across his bank statement with a proud smile. The Exchequer was not smiling.
While the Exchequer read it over, Brek went on about the halls of his mind. The palace he'd lived in each night and the beautiful clothes he'd worn. Brek's rambling was interrupted by the Exchequer.
"Vault of Destitution."
Quark chuckled sleepily. Rom gasped around his thumb.
Brek was shocked! He pushed out his touching wrists and dropped to his knees. It seemed so unfair! What had he done wrong? Maybe he never took, but he wasn't charitable! Maybe he wasn't swimming in profit, but he'd stayed out of debt! Maybe he'd been an eternal employee, but wasn't he the best employee there'd ever been?
It wasn't enough. For years, the self-assurances had rung in his ears like jingling latinum. Today, they were like rain filling his lobes, cold and wet. It wasn't enough, and Brek knew it.
He begged the Exchequer, asking him, why the dreams? Why was his life of poverty rewarded with those vivid dreams? There had to be a meaning.
"The fault is yours," answered the Exchequer, "for getting lost in the pleasure of wanting without working. A Ferengi who lives in his dreams cannot achieve them."
"That's not fair." Rom whined.
"Of course it's fair, it's the rules." Quark kicked his pajama wrapped feet against Rom's. "He was a lobeless-good-for-nothing-idiot, right?" he tipped his head back to look at Moogie.
Moogie shook her head with a stilted hiss. "We don't say that about people, Quark." She knew he learned it from her. "But… you're right. He made bad business, and he was punished. Is that a story we can learn from?" Quark had finally begun to show an interest in the rules of acquisition, Ishka was hopeful it was a good sign for his future.
"I want to see the palace." Rom was pressing his thumb against the emerging tooth while he spoke, drool darkened his sleeve cuff. "It sounds beautiful."
"That's not the point!" Quark squeaked. So much for winding down for bed, he got worked up so easily. A sensitive boy- they were both sensitive boys. "The stupid palace wasn't real. Latinum is real!"
Moogie shushed softly, cradling both little heads back against her chest. Outside was a quiet rumble of far thunder.
"The dreams were beautiful, Rom. You're right." She didn't pause long enough to invite tension, "And you're right too, Quark. We can't spend all day in our dreams. You have to wake up and work."
The argument was settled. The rhythm of heartbeats and heavy rain stilled any lingering upset.
Rom fell asleep before Moogie started the transfer into bed. Quark crawled under on his own, watching her tuck Rom next to him.
"I'm going to work hard." he promised, pulling the blanket up around his ears. "When I'm big, I'll make lots of profit, Moogie."
Ishka melted, reaching across the bed to lovingly pet over Quark's forehead, pressing their noses together. "You will, Quark. I know you will."
She was about to tap the door controls when she heard Rom's half-asleep addition.
"When I'm big, I want to eat lots of pecca."